


cola with the burnt-out taste

by kissingiscool



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Pain Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Subspace, and louis has the hard life, but - Freeform, eleanor is an old girlfriend of harry's, house arrest, i get a lot of good ideas when i wash the dishes, i got this idea while i was washing the dishes, louis falls out of a window but for a good reason, louis lives with his dad and his sisters live with their grandparents, of sorts, one of those aus where harry has a 'perfect life', zayn is his probation officer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissingiscool/pseuds/kissingiscool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I. I haven't told anyone that before, not that I really had anyone to tell it to, so."</p><p>"Well, now you have somebody to tell it to," Harry murmurs and looks up at him with a crooked smile and the whole thing is so bittersweet, Louis can taste it on his tongue, but he smiles back and mumbles <em>Yeah.</em></p><p> <em>(or the au where louis is under house arrest and harry loves him & fruit and brings him flowers out of his own garden. they can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing when it rains.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	cola with the burnt-out taste

**Author's Note:**

> thank you [mandy](http://www.fedorea.tumblr.com/) for the idea of louis falling out the window and [olivia](http://www.dimpledlouis.tumblr.com/) who helped me brainstorm without even knowing that she helped me.
> 
> i listened to _buzzcut season_ by lorde a whole lot while writing this because it inspired me, so that's where the title is from. this is 19x19, which is my most favorite thing in the worlD
> 
> there _will_ be some inaccuracies regarding the whole house arrest thing, but then again, when are there _not_ inaccuracies lmao
> 
> this is the most i've written on a fic so far it's quite literally 18k of crap but i hope you still enjoy it???? lmao
> 
> (p.s. sorry for the tags being such a mess lmao i was doing it as i went along)

Louis lies down on the settee by his windowsill with a irritated huff, peering out the window with one arm hanging off the side of it. He sighs again, louder now. He sits up. And lies back down again. Stares at the sun until there are black spots in front his eyes. Sits up again and places his feet flat on the floor. "Fuck," he sighs out, gripping the edge of the settee. " _Fuck_."

He glares down at the ankle bracelet weighing him down and narrows his eyes. " _Fuck!_ " he cries out, and in all honesty, the back of his mind is telling him to chill, he's only been stuck in the house for six hours, he's not gonna _die_.

Except he just might.

He groans and falls back onto the settee, training his eyes on the sun to see how much longer he can go staring at it before his eyes start burning, and the back of his stupid mind is telling him that this is why he's fucking nearsighted and has glasses. The back of his mind also told him to get his ass off the street before the cops came rolling around the corner to find him with five bags of coke in his palm, but then again, he never listens to the back of his mind.

He can remember the condescending, eye-narrowed, know-it-all look the judge gave him when she saw him stand in front of her with his wrists cuffed and his eyes dull and lifeless. He doesn't remember anything from that hearing, save for the moment his mother stood up and demanded for a house arrest, saying that _My son doesn't belong in prison; he's only nineteen!_

The judge had spared him, pointing out that while it was his first offense, it was still harmful to the people around him. Gave him three months of house arrest as a result.

 _Perfect, just fucking perfect, right at the start of June, too_ , he thinks, lifting the ankle bracelet to glare at it more before knocking it against the edge of the wall and it beeps quietly. He winces. That hurt. He lets his head fall back on the settee. "Fuck my _asshole_!"

"Watch your language, boy! As if you haven't learned your lesson already," says his jerk-face father from his study, peeking his head around the corner to scowl at him. "And get off the settee. Safer in your room where you _really_ can't do anything."

Louis glares right back, except with more fire in his eyes as he pushes himself into sitting position, hair sticking up at the back of his head. He really hates his father. He _really, really_ hates his father. "What d'you think I've been doing in there the whole time, huh?" he hisses, and turns to open the window because how else is he supposed to get fresh air.

"Close the window, you moron; the conditioning's on! That's money blowing right out the window - _close_ it, dammit! You never listen to me. I don't understand, Louis; you used to be such a sweet little boy, used to be so polite and lovely. What's gotten into you?"

"Your nan's pubes, that's what's gotten into me," Louis snaps, pushing the window open more with narrowed eyes. He carries his eyes back to where the sun is, can see it starting to hide behind dark gray clouds, and it's funny how that's exactly how he's feeling. That's exactly how he feels every time he's around his father.

Troy shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together and, really, Louis could care less about how he's feeling about him because whatever the feeling is, it's mutual. "It's no wonder your mum gave you up to me -"

The fire that was starting to dull in his eyes flares up again - he can practically feel the gasoline being spread as he looks back at Troy, face twisted in rage. "Don't you _dare_ talk about my mum; that's not fair! You _know_ she couldn't take care of me anymore!"

Troy ignores him, talks right over him as if he hasn't said a word. "Is that who you got your drugs from then? Your dug-addict mummy?" he mocks, a small smirk on his face. The smirk is enough to make Louis' stomach churn with ire.

"Shut your fucking mouth - what the hell? You _married_ her! Had _kids_ with her! If anything, I'm _lucky_ she raised me by herself because she stopped me from being an absolute _wanker_ like you!" Louis shouts, voice trembling with indescribable anger. So what if his mum is drug addict still in rehab, and has been in rehab for about half a year? That didn't make her job of raising him any less wonderful. And it was good that she gave up momentary custody of Louis to his father and his sisters to their grandparents, right? Because she knew she needed help and couldn't take care of them anymore. At least she was mentally present enough to know that. "You can go right to hell, how about that?"

"Don't use that language around me -!"

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want -!"

"With that bracelet around your ankle, you won't -!"

"Fuck _right_ off -!"

"Louis Troy -!"

"Excuse you, it's Louis _William_ \- after all this time, you still don't know my fucking -" Louis cuts himself off when he turns his head towards the window and looks down, sensing that another party was present for a conversation they were never invited to join.

He finds a curly haired boy, eyes wide and green, gaping up at the window with garden tools in his forest green-gloved hands, mouth open in shock. Louis frowns at him because he knows him, wants him to mind his business and leave, and he opens his mouth to say _What the hell are you doing here?_ when his father follows his eyes and leans out the window with an apologetic laugh. "Quite sorry you had to hear that, Harry. I'll pay you extra this time for your trouble. Now if you could just grab the lawn mower and come around to the front, it would be -"

Louis shuts the window, really meaning to snap Troy's fingers right off but the older man is too quick, and he glares at him. "When are you gonna stop being rude?" He snarls, whirling around to the staircase and not waiting for his answer. And he talks about _Louis_ being rude.

"Well, when are you gonna stop being fake?" Louis says, following him with the intention to embarrass him in front of the boy until the man opens the door and a man looking very different from the boy he saw in the back appears. Louis sighs and puts on a smile, pushing his father out of the way so the man won't be ready to say anything stupid. "Good afternoon, Officer Malik; what brings you here on this fine evening -"

"Oh, save it, Tomlinson. Were you trying to take your bracelet off just a while ago?" Zayn asks, cutting right to the chase and peering down at him with narrowed eyes. He almost looks intimidating in his police officer suit, but then Louis remembers catching him sketch in the back of the courtroom and all intimidation ceases to exist.

Louis shrugs and grins, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "I dunno, Zayn, was I? What if I just accidentally knocked my ankle against the wall or something like that? Why are you so quick to assume that I did it on purpose, huh?"

Zayn keeps his eyes narrowed, staring him down for a long while before he sighs. "Let this be a warning, yeah? There's gonna be consequences next time, consequences that won't allow you to step so much as a toe outside this door, alright? And don't call me by my first name," he warns and leaves before waiting for Louis' response.

"Whatever you say, bucko," Louis murmurs before noticing the same green-eyed boy standing on the porch. He rakes his eyes over him, not even hiding that he's checking him out, because Louis' never had any shame, really. Not even when his mum caught wind of the news of him trying to sell drugs on the side of the street (well, there had been a little shame there. Just a little.).

The boy is _fit_ to a T, but Louis already knows that. He's wearing a loose white t-shirt with a scoop neck that shows off his collar bones and pecs. He's tall and broad, and Louis remembers how much taller he is than him, he's got a good two inches on him. His hair is dark and wild, put in a fringe and a bit flat against his forehead. His lips are pretty and full, and Louis couldn't tell you how many times he's fantasized having those lips wrapped around his cock.

His eyes drift up to his face, finding a shy grin and even more shy green eyes. "Hi, 'm Harry," the boy murmurs before slowly extending a large hand.

Louis takes it, and his knees nearly buckle at how his hand is so _small_ in comparison to Harry's, but he keeps his composure because he's calm, he's cool, he's collected. "I know who you are. My name's Louis," he says, and Harry nods and squeezes his hand, sending electric shocks up his spine. _Oh_.

Harry tilts his head to the side. "You go to my school, don't you? I know I've seen your face."

Louis shrugs one shoulder, and the floorboards of the porch look _really_ interesting right now. "Well, I know I've seen _yours_. You're the captain of the football team, yeah? You rejected me, you don't remember that? Hit you in the face with a soccer ball - _by accident_ , mind you - and your nose started bleeding and you started yelling at me to go away and get off the field," he laughs, albeit softly and why the _fuck_ is he being so shy right now? He's approached his crushes much the same way, why is he being like this? Why is it _always_ like this around Harry?

Harry laughs and squeezes his hand again, earning a rosy blush from Louis. "Yeah, I remember you now. Was quite pissed that day, don't remember what for. Figured that I could take my anger out on you cos I needed someone to blame. Sorry about that."

Louis finds that he can't really pay attention to the words he's saying, staring at how his hand completely covers his, can't help but count the seconds that have passed by as they continue to hold hands, nearly shivers at Harry's warmth even though it's already warm enough outside. "No - no, it's alright, 's fine," he murmurs, staring at their hands and he knows he probably looks like a weirdo right now.

Harry nods and they stand there for a good minute or so just holding hands until he tries to tug his hand out of the hold. "Ah, Louis...?"

Louis blinks himself out of his stupor and nods, releasing his hand, his cheeks burning with rare embarrassment. He's sure the blush can be brushed off from being caused by the heat and not by a crush from school. "Yeah, sorry, I - sorry."

Harry nods quickly, trying to reassure him with a wave of his hands. "Hey, yeah, no, that was fine! You're alright, you know. And if - if you don't mind me asking, what was that officer doing here? Sorry if I seem a bit nosy, but."

Louis rolls his eyes slightly before sticking his ankle bracelet out the door, nearly expecting it to beep. It doesn't. "'M on house arrest for, like, three months. So basically the whole summer, I'm gonna be stuck in here. 'M already dying of boredom," he laughs slightly then glances back, wondering where Troy ran off to before sitting down on the porch beside the door even though there's a bench swing not too far away from him. He'd rather sit on the floor.

Harry shrugs one shoulder and crouches down in front of him, clasping his hands together and tool belt jingling due to the action. "Well, ah. In case you've forgotten, I live right next door. I know you can't come over, but I'll be over here every week to tend to Mr. Austin's garden and yard, and we can - you know, we can get to know each other. Never paid attention to much of anyone outside of my friends group anyway, so I suppose I need a change of scenery, yeah?"

Louis is thankful for the fact that he didn't fuss at him for being bored because his father's house is practically a mansion - not quite as big as a real one, but it comes close. But he gapes at him all the same because for the first time in like, what, a year, someone actually _wants_ to be friends with him. He almost wants to ask him _Is this a prank?_ but he blinks and shakes himself out of it. "Well, as you've already heard, I'm a handful, so. Let that be your warning, I guess."

Harry shakes his head and opens his mouth, ready to protest when Troy burst out of the screen door, eyes searching the yard until he looks down and finds Louis sat there. He narrows his eyes at him. Louis does the same. "You shouldn't be out here - do you want Mr. Malik to come back down here again?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "I can sit on the fucking porch, thanks, Troy. I know where I can be and where I can't be, I don't need some old geezer who ditched me and my sisters for years to tell me that -"

Troy's hand twitches, and he nearly backhands the boy right there before he remembers that Harry is there, and he scowls at his son before turning to Harry with a faux smile. "Again, I'm paying you extra for any trouble he's caused you today. (Louis makes a noise of ultimate offense) Now if you would just start with the gardens and then mow the lawn and backyard, that would be swell." He glowers back down at Louis. "You, back inside. Mr. Styles doesn't need any unnecessary and unwanted distractions -"

"Actually," Harry speaks up, rising to his feet, "I wouldn't mind if he was out here to keep me company. I think it would be rather nice to talk to someone while 'm working, if that's okay with you, sir?"

Troy stares at him, curious and confused before waving a hand and turning around. "So be it. _Don't_ give him any trouble, Louis. I mean it," he warns before closing the screen door behind him.

Louis rolls his eyes, heart heavy because the last thing he wants is to do is spend _three months_ with his wanker of a father. As long as he's been here, Troy has been nothing but rude and demeaning to him, as if he has the right. And as angry as he makes Louis, Louis can't help but try to figure out what he can do _right_ , figure out how he can make Troy happy. He won't let anybody else know that, though.

"I'm sure you won't cause me any trouble, if that's what you're pondering about," Harry says, standing on the bottom of the porch steps now with an uncertain look on his face. "You know, the kids in school used to talk a lot of trash about you, I remember now. But it's only cos you're different, you know that, don't you? You're just different, that's all. Can't let people make you feel bad about you being who you are, yeah?"

Louis stares at him and in all honesty, he would've never imagined his four year crush to say something so sincere to him, and he grins a little. "Thanks for that," he murmurs, before scooting to the edge of the porch and looking up at the graying sky. "'S gonna rain soon, so technically, you shouldn't be out here."

Harry peers up at the sky with him and shrugs before slipping his garden gloves on. "That's alright. If it's light rain, I could work through it. I'm fine."

Louis nods and brings his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on one of them. They stay there in pleasant silence until Louis tilts his head to the side and snorts, watching as Harry delicately sets the flowers back in their respective places. Harry looks up at him and snorts too, grinning curiously. "What's so funny? Is there something on my face?"

Louis shakes his head, letting out short, curt giggles as he hides his smile behind the back of his hand (and Harry thinks Louis might be the cutest person on earth). "No, fuck, oh my God, no, it's just - captain of one of the most intimidating high school football teams, broad-shouldered and tall, looks like he could plow you into the ground and dislocate your shoulder completely, fucking _gardens_ and touches those flowers like they're gonna scream if he handles them any rougher. I know it sounds like I'm stereotyping you, which I sort of am, but it's just funny, is all. Never would've expected this from you."

Harry grins wider, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter and dimple dipping into his left cheek. "Yeah, well, most people wouldn't. Think I'm this big and bad popular kid coming from high school and going onto college, that all I'm focused on is football and school. Think I'm _perfect_ , or whatever. Truth is, I don't even wanna keep playing football or go to college. Wanna -" He grunts as he tugs out a particularly difficult flower and falls back on his ass. He laughs a bit. "Wanna buy a little cottage and live near a small town and have something to myself for once, I guess. I don't I've ever told anyone that before."

Louis smiles and clears his throat, his heat beating a bit faster because they've only just started their friendship and Harry is already confiding in him with his thoughts and secrets and. And he feels good. "Well - well, most people think I'm gonna amount to nothing, you know, they think I'm some talent-less scum that's only good for being a menace and getting in trouble. Well, I wanna be an artist. Like, I wanna be an artist in anything and everything. I can play piano pretty well and I can draw and sing a bit, I suppose, but, like. I wanna get better at it. I don't even wanna be hugely recognized - I just want someone to tell me that I'm good at something. That I'm good _for_ something, more like. I. I haven't told anyone that before, not that I really had anyone to tell it to, so."

"Well, now you have somebody to tell it to," Harry murmurs and looks up at him with a crooked smile and the whole thing is so bittersweet, Louis can taste it on his tongue, but he smiles back and mumbles _Yeah_.

They spend the next four hours with each other, with Harry still hard at work and sun still shaded. Louis tells him about his mum and his sisters and where they are, tells him that he's got no more grandparents and that family means the absolute world to him, but that his father doesn't count (and he hopes Troy doesn't hear him when he says it, but he probably does). Harry tells him about his sister and his mum and dad, about how they've always been on the wealthy side of things and how he's always been told to live up to expectations, tells him about the pressure nobody thinks he has and about the anxiety attacks he's had when everyone's gone to bed, tells him that he's not perfect. _I know that; nobody is_ , Louis tells him, reaching between the bars of the porch to pick a daffodil and put it in his hair. They're throwing flowers at each other and stuffing petals in each other's hair ( _"Lou, you ruined the whole garden now!"_ ) when thunder roars and a light rain starts to come down.

"Haz, c'mon, come inside, you're gonna get soaking wet. And it's getting a bit chilly," Louis whines, making grabby hands at him through the bars and sporting a pout on his face. "And I don't wanna catch hypothermia and I don't want you to pneumonia. Come inside."

Harry rolls his eyes and sighs, slipping his gloves off and peering up at the sky. "Yeah. Yeah, alright, I'll come in. Wait, is your dad alright with it? He's never let me in the house before - always brought out my paycheck and refreshments outside and forced me to use the bathroom at my house."

Louis rolls his eyes. "He's just being rude, that's all. Got nothing to hide, if that's what you're wondering, I can see it on your face. Come inside, who cares."

Harry gives him a skeptical look before rising to his feet and coming around the front until he's standing on the porch and patting himself down to rid himself of most of the dirt. He glances back over at Louis with a crooked grin Louis' starting to grow very fond of. "Aren't you gonna get up and come in with me like you said?"

Louis sighs and leans his head back until its resting against the bars and lifts up an arm. "Help me up. No, matter of fact, carry me. 'M sleepy and lazy."

Harry shakes his head and smiles before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. Louis stumbles at the sudden force and his face ends up pressed against his broad chest. He can't help it, he inhales his scent and smiles. _He smells like rain and cologne._ Quickly, he pushes himself away before it gets too weird, blushing fiercely and patting his chest, averting his eyes. "Sorry about that -"

Abruptly, Harry pulls him back in and wraps his whole being around him, squeezing him and lifting him off the ground a bit. Louis, startled, can only wrap his arms around his waist, and it's only until he struggles to breathe that he digs his blunt nails into the soft skin of his waist. "Harry - Haz - can't breathe - put me down now -"

Harry holds him a bit longer until he gives up the ghost and releases him. Louis stumbles backwards, straightening out his shirt and fixing his hair and trying to catch his breath when he catches the look on Harry's face. The taller boy is grinning widely at him, expression soft and fond and Louis exhales, can't stop himself from smiling. "Thank you. Suppose I needed that."

Harry nods. "I thought you did. And your hair smells like fruit, so," he says, opening the door and holding it for Louis to go first before cautiously wandering in. "I like fruit a lot," he says absent-mindedly.

Louis nods, taking his wrist and pulling him to the kitchen. "Well then, come on, you haven't had anything to eat all day. And close your mouth, it's not like the air is gonna suddenly morph into food."

Harry obeys and blinks, laughing a bit. "Sorry, it's just - this place is really nice. Haven't been in other houses in the neighborhood too often, so. I don't know, it's different and nice. I like different things." He pauses. "Like you."

Louis meant to open his mouth to tease him for repeating the same thing almost until he heard his added remark. He coughs and squeezes his wrist, blushing slightly and he swears, he's never blushed this much in such a short time span ever in his life. "Ah. Um. Uh - tha-thank you. Ha," he stutters, grateful when they reach the kitchen. He hikes himself up on the counter and snatches up an apple from a fruit bowl. "Take your pick of whatever and no, Troy won't care," he adds when Harry opens his mouth.

Harry nods and reaches for two bananas immediately, peeling it like monkeys do and stuffing half of it down his throat. Louis watches his throat work around the tip of the banana, mouth going dry, and the words spill out of Louis before he can even think about it, really. "You can deep throat?"

Harry chokes on his banana, spluttering and laughing and coughing all at once, and he's too young to die. He's wandering away from the counter and covering his mouth, laughter muffled. "Fuck - shit - oh my God -" he laughs out, bits of banana flying out of his mouth and - and his _nose_.

"Oh, gross!" Louis laughs, slipping off the counter and grabbing a few napkins before pulling Harry back over to him by his rather muscled bicep and removing his hand from covering his face. He uses his shoulder for leverage that he doesn't need, laughing obnoxiously loud at the sight of his banana-covered face as he wipes at it, leaning in a bit too close.

Harry rolls his eyes, almost puts his hand on Louis' waist until settling for the counter behind them. "Don't - quit laughing at _me_ when you're the one who started it -"

"It just slipped out, I'm sorry," Louis giggles, hand automatically coming up to cup his jaw as he wipes away the remnants of banana around his mouth and nose and he's starting to realize how close they are when he pulls the napkin away. He can see the soft gray ring around his pupil, making the green look even better than it does from afar, can see the cracks on his chapped lips, can see drying raindrops on his eyelashes and skin. His heart flutters when their eyes meet and now is a good a time as any to say something about how he's felt about him for the past four years -

"Louis? What the hell is this?" Troy says from the second doorway of the kitchen, frown prominent even though Louis isn't looking at him.

Louis sighs, removing his hand and stepping back with a heavy heart. "Harry just - made a mess on his face, is all. I was cleaning it off for him," he mumbles, avoiding Harry's eyes at all costs because he's positive that he's made things awkward now.

"I can see that, but what is he doing in here? No offence, Harry, you're a swell boy," Troy says, stepping in slowly.

"Well, what's wrong with him being in here? 'S not like you've got anything to hide," Louis snaps, whirling around to face Troy and he doesn't want to fight with him in front of Harry again, but for what it's worth -

"I was trying to hide _you_."

Louis grips the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn snow-white and he's refraining from shouting a litany of wise-choice words, he really is. He guesses that Harry can see that in the way his jaw tightens and how his lips press together because he places a gentle hand on his shoulder blade and squeezes. "Uhm, Mr. Austin, I was - I was wondering if it would be okay if I came over here every day. I - I mean, Louis _clearly_ needs company with someone of his own age and we've already made good friends and - ah. Please?"

Troy narrows his eyes and considers it, hands curling into a fist and uncurling. _It won't be before long when the boy tries to kill me in my sleep. Needs someone to keep him sane and I am_ not _that someone._ "...Fine. But Louis, I _swear_ if you get in any trouble at all -"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before, same empty threats. Go, keep doing whatever you were doing," Louis interrupts with a wave of his hand, the other hand still gripping the edge of the counter and cramping because he can't seem to let go of it. He's holding his breath and waiting until he knows Troy is gone for good and releases the breath, trying to get his hand to release the counter. _Alright_. "Alright, let's go to - let's go upstairs in my room. He never bothers me in there," he mutters, moving to do as he said.

Harry frowns and grips his shoulder, turning him around. His eyebrows are narrowed and creased with worry, eyes concerned, and Louis has never felt so thankful for anyone's existence ever in his whole life than he had right there. "You alright? You looked like you were having a - a quiet heart attack or something. Your face was -"

"-Turning red, I know. Sorry," he mumbles, looking down at his fiddling fingers. "I made things - weird, just a moment ago."

Harry frowns deeper, if possible, and he squeezes his shoulder like it's a reassurance thing. Louis likes it a lot. Likes _him_ a lot. "What? How - how'd you make things weird?"

Louis shrugs and presses his bottom lip between his teeth with his index finger, closing his eyes before releasing a deep sigh. "I like you. Like, as a crush? And you've - you've never even noticed me and I suppose that's my fault because whenever you passed me by in the halls, I'd try to work up the courage to talk to you and I'm not usually like that. I've never had to - to think twice about talking to somebody because I talk a lot to a lot of people, and yeah, I know they never listen to me, but I've got to get it out somehow, right? Yeah, uh, no. That's - that's not the point. I'm trying to say that I like you and that you make me - nervous. You're the only person who's ever made me nervous and self-conscious and shy, or whatever." He laughs softly. "So much for this _friendship_ business. I mean, I don't even know if you swing for my team or for both or for the other and here I am, pouring my heart out to you like an idiot -"

"I've noticed you before, Louis."

Louis opens his eyes and looks up at that, frowning. "But when you came here, you didn't even know my _name_ or remember my face."

Harry shrugs, turning around and reaching for another banana (Louis would've made a witty comment about it if he wasn't so eager to hear what he had to say). "I told you I know I've seen your face. And yeah, I didn't know your name or anything personal like that, but you've caught my eye a lot of times before, I guess. I've had dreams about you, I think, but I left it alone because I sort of have dreams about all of the faces I see. It's different with you, though, because the dreams with you weren't - I don't know - weird or scary? They were intimate. I suppose that's a sign?" he laughs, peeling the banana and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Don't fuck around with me; that's not funny," Louis snaps, crossing his arms and averting his eyes from his face to the cabinets.

Harry's shoulder slump as he swallows his chewed-up banana and wraps a hand around his jaw, tilting his head up so he can't look away from him anymore. "I'm not fucking around with you; I don't find it anymore funny than you do. I'll have you know that - I'm a firm believer in fate. I don't think those dreams were just chance events, they mean something. I know I sound stupid, but I think we're supposed to be together, you know? I think we're meant to happen."

Louis' skin is tingling at the feel of the possessive hands gripping his jaw, feels his heartbeat pick up in tempo. It's almost like a dream, standing there with a long-time crush only inches away from his face, telling him that he thinks they belong together because of some twist of fate. _He thinks we're meant to happen. He thinks we're meant to happen and he's centimeters away from my face and my skin is on fire and. Okay._ "Okay," he murmurs, "okay, kiss me."

The first thing Louis registers is that his lips are thicker against his, and they're so, so soft. The kiss is gentle and chaste, and it's like their lips are barely touching, like he's asking him _Is this okay?_ Louis nods against him and presses in deeper so that they're touching for real now.

Next thing he knows, his lower back is being pressed into the edge of the counter and fingers are digging into his waist and this is perfectly fine, it's just like he imagined, except now he's getting hard. He wishes that being manhandled wasn't a thing for him, wishes that the way Harry's hands move to his lower back and pull him closer wasn't so hot to him. His arms wrap around his neck, hands fisting the fabric stretched over his back as he inhales the bittersweet smell of cologne and rain indented in Harry's skin.

***

Louis is tossing and turning on his bed for a long while a few days after, feels like it's been a long day even though he hasn't done much besides kissing Harry and being an absolute menace. Actually, he spent a lot more time kissing Harry than being a menace, sat in his lap on the couch, arms wrapped around his neck and lips open and gasping into his mouth, wet and bruised from the abuse -

But now's not the time to get hard, it's really not. Because Louis is planning a house party.

See, at first, he backed out on the idea. He may have the phone number of everyone's he's ever spoken to, but it's a one in a million chance that he'd get a response back or, god forbid, have one of them come over to his beckoning. He's had more acquaintances than he's had friends. Actually, he's never really had friends, but that's past the point because next thing he knew, he was ringing Harry and saying, "Tell everybody in your contact list that there's gonna be a house party at my house address - they don't have to know it's me till they open the door."

Harry is silent for a short while, most likely stunned by his sudden request before chuckling a bit. "Well, if you want me to contact everyone in my contact list, then I hope you'll be expecting my family to come along for the ride as well -"

"You know what I mean," Louis scolds with a fond roll of his eyes, chest bursting with the power of one million suns for this boy. He's pretty certain that he's never felt this way for anyone else before in his life, but he's only nineteen after all, what does he know about love?

Harry's laughter filters through the speakers, warming Louis' heart to its blood vessels. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Yeah, let's just host a random house party together. What's the occasion, huh?"

Louis shrugs, brushing his fingertips over his tummy with a smile. "Well, I try to be poetic, so let's just say we're celebrating the spontaneity of life, yeah?"

He can imagine that Harry nods before answering, laughs a bit at the thought. What a dork. "Yeah. Yeah, alright, I'll get right on it. But wait, you've got stuff for it, don't you? You know, like, typical house party stuff, or whatever you call it?"

Louis sits up. "Harry, it's a house party, not a ball. All you need is some food, drugs, and alcohol and bam! perfect house party."

"Drugs? Alcohol? Louis, we're all underage. What if - what if your probation officer catches you or what if your dad comes home early or -?"

"Haz, Harry, Hazza - hey. I've _got it_ , okay? 'M bored and there's nothing to do, and they never said anything about having parties, now did they? No, they didn't. I've got it under control. I'll call you when 'm ready, yeah?" Louis says, swinging his legs over his bed and surveying his mess of a room with a suppressed sigh.

Harry clears his throat like he's collecting himself. "Yeah, alright. I trust you, Lou."

Louis stops short at that, opens his mouth to protest and say _Oh, well, I wouldn't go that far that quickly, Harry_ but the line goes dead, ringing in his ear. _Right. Okay, he trusts me, or whatever. That's alright, isn't it? That's fine._

 

By the time Harry is walking through Louis' door, the house is already filled with people - some of those people who he doesn't even remember inviting, but whatever. He has to find Louis. That's what he's in this for at all, right?

He's weaving through the mess of bodies, not really having to stand on his tippy toes to see Louis - he's taller than most people there. "Louis? Louis!" he calls out, like if he calls him enough number of times then he'll appear right before him.

He's carrying himself to where the source of the music when a hand is grabbing his bicep and turning him around, causing him to miss Louis as he passes him by, off yelling at some person to _Put that down, what the fuck, mate! This isn't the NBA!_

"Harry! 'S been a long time, since I've seen you, hasn't it?" Eleanor, his ex-girlfriend- shouts to him over the music. She's wearing a smile, one that can only mean trouble for him, he knows. She squeezes his bicep. "How've you been lately? Still lonely as ever without me, yeah?"

Harry tears his arm out of her grip and frowns down at her, the effort to be polite leaving him all at once. "Actually, I've got a - a partner, and I've been doing swell, thank you." _Partner. That's a better word - with that small brain of hers, she might not even notice._ "Listen, I've got to go see - them. This is their house party, and they asked me to host it with them, so that's what I'm gonna do. You probably shouldn't be here, though, if you've come to hit on me."

Eleanor flutters her eyelashes and pouts, stroking his arm with the tip of her finger, but her eyes are anything but playful. "And why is that? Your little _partner_ gonna do something about it?"

Harry clenches his jaw as he fights against an impending shiver. "No. No, but your boyfriend might." He takes the chance to slip away from her the moment she whirls around in panic and continues his search, hoping that Louis didn't happen to see that and hoping that he could be able to explain if he did.

He can't help but roll his eyes, wants to rub the feeling of her finger off his arm right away. Since day one when they were together, they just didn't fit. They never communicated, they weren't on the same wavelength, they just didn't _click_. Not like he and Louis do. It's a only been a few days, and Harry already can't imagine being away from him for long. He's never been in a relationship with a boy before, he's never tried, but he always knew there was something special about Louis, something that hooked him in, like an anchor to its rope.

 

Alright. Alright, so maybe it wasn't such a good idea to host a house party, considering the fact that he's never had one before.

Louis is on his knees, wiping up the fifth drink he's cleaned up so far tonight, and this is just no fun at all. He's probably gonna look like a train wreck the moment Harry spots him, and he at least wanted to look good for _him._ Nowadays, it seems that Harry matters more to him than he does to _himself._ He sighs, sitting back on his legs and tossing the soggy paper towel down on the floor. He plans on leaving it there. He feels that he truly looks like the definition of a try-hard.

He moves to stand up, straightening his t-shirt as he goes along when a tall, lankly patron trips over him and falls. Louis' hands release his shirt to gain purchase on the floor, but it's already too late - his shirt is ruined and soaked with beer. Great. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

He kicks the person's leg off of him and spins around on his bum to give them a cold, hard glare when his eyes meet familiar green ones. He laughs in relief and sighs in exhaustion. "God, Harry, where've you _been_? You've missed half the party now."

Harry sits up, bending his leg up and resting an arm on it like he means to stay there like that for a long while. "I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you anywhere. Briefly got caught up with an old flame, but I kept looking for you as soon as I could get away from them." His eyes glance over him, and Louis' cheeks tinge pink. "You look like you've been havin' a wild night without me."

Louis shakes his head and flails his hands like he's giving up (which he is). "No - well, yes - well. Okay, it's just - I haven't been having any fun at _all_ tonight. I've spent this whole party yelling at people and cleaning up after them and telling them to _chill out_ and this is not fun at all for me. Truth is, I've never hosted a house party. 'S a lot more stressful than I thought it would be."

Harry remains silent for a bit and shrugs. "Why don't we just tell everybody to go home, and we can head upstairs to your room? Y'look exhausted, Lou."

Louis blinks slowly and nods. "Believe me, I am. Wait a second." He stands up and weaves through the sea of bodies. Harry sits there and waits until he hears police sirens ringing outside, and the next thing he knows, everybody is escaping through every window, back door, front door, and opening they can get through and all that remains is the mess they left behind.

He spots Louis walking through the doorway of the common room, holding up his phone. "Simple, but effective."

 

They're lying in Louis' bed before they even know it, the both of them tired from the mess they cleaned up. Louis' eyes are droopy with tiredness and Harry is so warm against him, he could die like this, if he's honest. "Haz?" he slurs quietly.

"Mhm?" Harry hums, the vibrations spreading throughout Louis' chest. He holds him closer, shifts a bit.

"Thank...thank you, babe," Louis murmurs, burying his face in his chest, face going moist with his own breaths. "For everything, really."

"Yeah, 'course, anytime, love."

Louis nods, drifting off deeper to sleep. "Mhmm...love you," he whispers before shutting his eyes. Harry doesn't hear his words, and Louis doesn't realize what he's saying, but the words chase him in his dreams and he's murmuring the words in his mouth and in his skin, and he's saying it with his eyes and with his hands. And he knows, in his dream, when he presses his head between the crook of his neck, the he got too carried away long ago.

***

It rains just as heavily the day after, but no weather and no storm could dampen Louis' spirits now, because he's inviting Harry inside, and the boy is holding a bouquet of purple flowers close to his chest and a brown grocery bag with a grin on his face. Louis is about to share his sentiments and thankfulness until he _really_ looks at it and feels how damp and wet they are. He frowns. "These are from my front yard, Harold."

Harry shrugs one shoulder, grin turning a bit shy. "If I'd gone down to an old flower shop downtown, it wouldn't of been the same and my parents would've been asking questions. Is your - is Troy here?" he murmurs as he slowly walks in.

Louis stares at him, and it's completely unnecessary, he knows that, but he looks beautiful standing there in the door way. He's wearing a black dress shirt with a matching black tie and dress pants, and the whole outfit makes him look bigger and broader. His hair looks clean and combed, like it was being styled carefully and meticulously, and his eyes look just as bright as they did yesterday. Louis loves his eyes. He shakes his head to answer Harry's question as he shuts the door. "No. He doesn't even know we're doing this, but I don't think he'd care in the first place, if I'm being honest."

Harry seems to be giving Louis a similar once-over, and who can blame him? Louis looks absolutely stunning in his light blue, short-sleeve, button-up shirt and black skinny jeans, and although it's a simple outfit, it does something to his eyes, makes them bluer and prettier. And the jeans hug his legs tight, lets Harry see how thick his thighs are and how there's a slight but noticeable curve in his hips. He looks so soft and touchable and that's all Harry wants to do, that's what he's been wanting to do since he left the house yesterday. He just wants to touch him and hold him close now, and all of a sudden, he feels like the world's biggest twat for not approaching him like he should have. "Oh," is all he says.

Louis nods, pausing by the deck doors. He stands there like he's pondering something before opening the doors wide. His small frame shivers, and he exhales like his thirst has been quenched with cold water after going without it for so long. "That's better."

Harry narrows his eyebrows and lifts a finger in question because while that's definitely not the most oddest thing he's seen before, it's odd all the same. "Why -"

"I like how it smells, and I like how it feels. Now it's reminding me of you," Louis murmurs, but he doesn't make eye contact with him and stares at the rain instead, mesmerized by how it violates everything below it as it comes down.

Harry frowns, leaning his head down and grabbing his collar to sniff. "I smell like rain? Am I outside that often? I try not to smell like that -"

"No, no, I - I said I liked it. You smell fine, you - you smell good," Louis mumbles, then pauses, sticking his thumb in his back pocket. "Um - so, see, I'm not really good at dates? I can't cook and even though I've got loads of suits in my closet, I never put them to use on occasions like this, so. I've got an idea, but it's a bit - childish, for people our age."

Harry immediately loosens his tie and pulls it off before shrugging his blazer off. He claps. "What is it, I'm all for it."

Louis shifts his weight between his feet, he's never been this nervous in his _life_. "Well - I was wondering if we could - it's really stupid, but I've always wanted a first date where we had dinner and just talked inside a handmade tent," he blurts out, biting his lip and nibbling on it. His hands go to his back pockets to fiddle with the buttons and he's praying that he doesn't laugh, _please don't laugh -_

Harry walks into the kitchen, and Louis can hear his voice from afar. "Are you allergic to anything?"

Louis smiles, shoulders slumping in relief. "No. No, I'm not. I'll - I'll set up the tent."

An hour and a half later, Harry has two plates of chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in parma ham with a side of homemade mash, walking out into the common room and holding the plates on separate hands. He can't stop the grin that spreads across his face as he sees the tent.

Louis must've had many blankets available because it stretches across the room so far, it goes over the couch and a little bit of the coffee table. While Louis is nowhere to be seen, Harry laughs a bit at the structure of it. The tent is mainly held up by several bar chairs and kept in its place by shoes, tool boxes, and books. The bar chairs are covered by more blankets, most likely to give them a sense of privacy and secrecy.

Harry carefully kneels down and crawls inside, surveying the inside with an open mouth. There's a silk blanket spread across the floor, small lanterns and other lights sitting on the outline of the inside and a small little table, a table a toddler would use for a tea party. Harry vaguely wonders where he got it from, but he's too wonder-struck to pay it much more attention. "Well, I see your creativity clearly isn't lacking, Louis Tomlinson," he murmurs, setting the plates on the table and sitting down criss-cross.

He sits there for a bit, awaiting Louis' return when he snaps his finger, realizing that he's forgotten to make them drinks. He moves quickly, head bumping against the top of the tent and causing a book to collapse and fall open. He's moving to pick it up and put it back and move on with his duties when he sees his own face in the book.

_What?_

Dumbfounded, he picks it up and flips through it because really, it's not every day that you drop a book and open it up to your face. It's a sketchbook, he figures, because although there are a few sketches of ships and other sea-related things, most of it is of _himself_.

Louis comes jogging around the corner with more books, breathless as he smiles at Harry. He feels like he hasn't seen him in ages and it's only been an hour or so. "I could smell your cooking all the way from the bedroom; did you burn something?" he grins, setting the books on the couch and slipping into the tent. There's a pause before Harry hears his voice again. "Well, come in here! 'M not having my date by myself, am I?"

Harry blinks, shaking his head out of his revere before settling back into the tent with the sketchbook still open in his hands. "Well, no, but what is this? Is this yours?"

Louis' smile slips right off his face before he can even finish the sentence, and he clasps his hands in his lap, looking down at him with a shrug. "Maybe. Anyway, it's gonna storm today, apparently -"

"Yeah, the weather channel said so, but is this me?" Harry asks, flipping through pages and _pages_ of... _himself_. He comes across one in particular, where he's got purple flowers in his hair and his dimple is caving in on his left cheek like it usually does, hair falling around his face like some heavenly dark halo. "Louis, this - this is _amazing_. All of this is incredible. You told you could draw a _bit_ , but this - this -"

"- Is mediocre. Really, it's not that good," Louis mutters, smoothing a hand over the silky duvet on the floor. He's always hated that blanket. "Do you think we could switch this one out for another one?"

Harry frowns and shrugs, moving the table out of the way and scooting closer to him. "Yeah, whatever you want, but why do you put yourself down like that, Lou? These are absolutely incredible and it's making me wonder - how long have you liked me? I mean, these drawings go on for ages and. Have I been ignoring for so long?"

Louis shrugs, doing that little nervous habit he has where he pushes his bottom lip between his lip and nibbles until it's bleeding. "Had a crush on you for about four years, but it's nothing, really -"

"Oh _God_ , Lou," Harry moans, falling onto his back and shoving a hand in his hair.

"Really -!"

"I stared at you for most of the day and I never had a _clue -!_ "

"It was my fault, though! I never said anything!"

"No, but it's not your fault, it's not your fault at all! All that time I spent looking at you and having near lucid _dreams_ about you and I doing intimate things, and not once did I ever really consider that hey, maybe I should ask him out or ask him what his fucking name is! I looked right through you!"

Louis rises onto his knees to hover over him, skin prickling with annoyance. "Wait a second, hold on, why are _you_ blaming yourself? Harry, _I_ was the one who should've done something. I spent four years painting you and drawing you and not once did I gain the courage to mutter a word to you, save for the try-outs! I would've spent months regretting never saying anything to you had it not been for your job! Don't feel bad - it was my own fault. And those drawings really don't do you justice, so."

"These drawings are amazing, don't say that." There's a pause. A sigh. "I hurt you, though, didn't I? I had a girlfriend sometime during these past four years, and I couldn't keep my hands off of her. Come to think of it, she looked like you, just a bit."

Louis shakes his head, sticking his fork in his mash distractedly. "I - I don't. I never really saw her face, you know; all I could see was you touching her and doing all that other stuff with her and I couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted that to be me. I always assumed that you - you know, I thought that you wouldn't dare date a guy, cos I'd only ever see you with girls. Even in grade school, when I didn't feel that way, I saw all the girls falling over you. You could have any one of them that you wanted, really, so by the time I got to high school, I thought I never stood a chance."

Harry sighs again before extending a hand for Louis to take. Louis takes it tentatively and shudders when the other boy squeezes it. "I was for both teams, I knew that from grade five, but I was so focused on being that best that I could be for my parents that it just didn't seem like a good enough option. My parents still don't know, and to be quite honest, I don't think they'd be very happy about me dating a boy," he laughs, but it's bitter and humorless.

"They're on the religious side, huh?"

Harry shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that. One time I tried getting out of going to church and they grounded me for three weeks, so I guess that's plausible."

Louis chuckles a bit, but there's nothing really funny about it. They sit there in silence for a bit, poking at their food and not bringing any of it to their mouths. The cold breeze that sifts through the doorway and makes Louis shiver, and he automatically goes to rub his arms, thinking that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to wear short sleeves on a rainy day. He shifts onto his knees, moving to stand. "I'm gonna - go get a jacket, 's a bit chilly and. God, I'm so sorry, this is the worst date you've ever had in history probably. I told I was no good at this," he mumbles with a self-deprecating shake of his head.

He doesn't expect Harry to pull him back down and crush him into his side, doesn't expect him to plant a kiss on the top of his head, doesn't expect him to start reassuring him. "This is just fine, Lou, this is perfect, yeah? That's what people do on first dates, get to know each other. This is nothing out of the ordinary, save for your creativity," he chuckles, and Louis laughs a bit with him, doesn't know there are tears leaking out of his eyes until he reaches up to wipe them away. There's a long pause. "You're not a failure, Louis. You know that, don't you? You're not."

Louis' eyes slip closed, and it's like this boy has always known what's going through his head without him saying anything. _It must be some sort of destined telepathic thing_ , he thinks, slipping his arms around Harry's waist as they sit there on the floor in the little tent and listen to the rain. _It must be destiny._

***

It's only two and a half weeks before Harry meets the rest of his family, save for his mother.

They're sat in the common room, cuddled together close with cups of hot cocoa sat on the coffee table and a blanket wrapped around them with the telly on, but neither one of them are paying attention to it, lips glued to each other's and hands searching for skin when the front door suddenly opens. The sound of several voices and keys being jingled alarm the both of them, and Harry moves quickly, scrambling to get some considerable space between them. Louis gives him an apologetic look as they wipe their mouths, but he really wants to apologize with his words.

They both have yet to say anything about their relationship to their parents, and Louis knows that Troy is suspecting something, but Louis isn't quite ready to own up yet. It's already bad enough that his father knows he's gay and doesn't fully accept it, so for him to find out that he's sleeping with his garden boy is unimaginable. But Harry shrugs and smiles, always the ever-loving and accepting one, giving even though he never receives and doesn't care if he does.

Louis' sisters, all four of them, are on top of him before he can even breathe in, and he's giggling and holding them close as they all shout a chorus of, "Louis!" Louis grins, giving them squeeze before releasing them and letting them stand back. He hasn't seen his sisters in what feels like forever, but really, it's only been a week, only because he was able to actually visit them before this time around.

"We heard you weren't allowed to leave the house, so we begged Nanny to let us come down here and see you," Phoebe explains excitedly, little ponytail bouncing along with her body as she leans down on his knee for leverage.

Every once and a while, Louis almost forgets about his ankle bracelet and that it's locked around his ankle for the next three months up until Harry leaves his house, and he goes upstairs to take a shower. It's agonizing, really, not being able to see them when he wants to and not being able to go out to their lake in backyard and sit on a rowboat and draw the landscape anymore. _But it's just three months_ , he reminds himself. _Just three months._ "That's wonderful, love. See, I've gotten into a bit of trouble, but I'll be able to see you on my own again in three months," Louis explains, tone soft and kind as he squeezes Daisy's shoulder.

"But that's the whole summer! How much trouble did you get into?" Lottie asks with a concerned frown, and Louis always forgets that she's just like him, wiser and older beyond her years.

"A lot, alright, but not enough for me to be elsewhere. For reasons," Louis adds belatedly. He turns back to Phoebe and Daisy with a small grin. "So what are all of you up to? I know it's only been two weeks, but you guys always manage to get into all sorts of mischief in such short spans of time -"

"Like brother, like sister," Troy calls from the kitchen.

Louis rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to speak again when Fizzie points to Harry, who's been sitting on the couch and quietly watching their interaction with a small smile. "Who's this, Louis?"

Harry bounces his eyebrows, leaning over and extending a long arm and an open hand. "Sorry, hi, 'm Harry."

Phoebe takes it before anyone else can, shaking it vigorously. "Hi, Harry - such a posh name, are you rich? I'm Phoebe!"

Harry laughs and shakes his head. "I'm not as rich as I'd like to be, but rich enough to get by with anything. How are you today, Phoebe?"

In less than twenty minutes, all of the girls have accumulated to Harry's side, but Lottie seems to want the most attention from him out of all of them. Louis is smiling at the fact that his sister has developed a little crush on his boyfriend, but doesn't want to see her reaction when she finds out that he's taken by her own brother. He doesn't think he wants to see anybody's reaction when they find about him and Harry, and he especially doesn't want to see the realization and possible disgust cross over their faces.

But he forces himself to remain in the real world, grumpily crossing his arms over his chest. "Can't believe my own _family_ has ditched me for some posh curly-haired boy," he says with a pout.

The girls immediately come back over to his side until Harry speaks up, "Hey, this posh curly-haired boy is your bo - best friend," he says, realizing the words that were about to slip out of his mouth and changing them as quickly as he could with it being noticed.

The girls go back over to Harry's side, giggling quietly. "Well, I think my best friend needs to let his best friend spend some quality time with his sisters instead of trying to sweep them off their feet with your charm like you do with everyone."

The girls go back over to his side.

It goes on like this until the girls get tired and settle on the couch between them, and Louis vaguely thinks about how good they are with children, but those thoughts are for another, later time. He almost laughs as Lottie fights for the spot beside Harry, pinching Fizzie's arm and giving her a warning glare.

They all sit there, talking quietly about what they've been up to until Troy calls them into the kitchen to receive their sandwiches. Louis lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in the first place, leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on Harry's lips, cupping his jaw as he pulls back. "I've been waiting this whole time to do that, you're quite adorable with children."

Harry grins charmingly and smugly, dazedly and lovely. "'M a natural."

Louis shoves his shoulder and scoots over a bit, but not enough to be under the crook of Harry's underarm. The heat coming from his arm resting on the back of the couch is enough for him right now, and he glances behind him, watching the girls eat their sandwiches and giggling at something Lottie says. "I love them so much -"

"They're gonna accept you just fine when they find out, Louis," Harry murmurs, eyes trained on the telly, but Louis knows he really has his complete attention.

"But Lottie - Lottie obviously has a little crush on you and she doesn't take well to things like that - things like you and I. And maybe she'll get over it, but she won't really take it in. She'll just ignore it. I don't know where she got that from, but she worries me the most. I don't want to lose any of them, Harry," Louis mumbles, his little hand moving to fist a handful of Harry's shirt in his hand because he just - he needs something to hold onto right now. Harry is the rope to his anchor, reels him in and talks him through it logically when he needs it, lets him be something to cling to when he's on the edge of falling down and under.

Harry remains silent for a while before covering his hand and squeezing it. "I can't exactly guarantee you that everything is going to be fine, God knows I wish I could, but you're gonna come close to it in the end. Everyone will either accept it and move past it or ignore and move on. It won't be easy, but you'll be okay. You'll be great, alright?"

Louis doesn't know when or how, but his face is buried in the boy's shoulder, tears springing to his eyes as he nods. He laughs, though it's strangled. "God, I should be giving you these sort of talks, shouldn't I? You have it the hardest."

Harry shrugs. "I'll be fine, as long as I've got you, yeah?" He says, finally looking down at him with a smile and squeezing his hand again.

Louis nods. "Yeah. Yeah, you got me. You'll always have me."

 

***

"Harry, what the fuck - sit _still_ , you twat!" Louis giggles. He's sat on a stool, sketchbook in his lap and pencil in his hand, facing his shirtless boyfriend who's stretched out on his bed and cackling. Harry demanded to be drawn this way because he apparently wanted to _"see how it looked on paper,"_ but that's less of the point.

They've been dating for about a month and some days now (the term _"going out"_ would've been cruel to use in Louis' instance), and things have been going along swimmingly, especially sex-wise. They've settled with giving good ol' handjobs and blowjobs, fingering and so on, but Harry's been teasing and tempting him lately and all Louis' been wanting to do now is just stick his arse up in the air and tell Harry to own him and make him his.

"'M sorry, it's just - the look on your face right now, you look like you're gonna combust!" Harry laughs, covering his mouth. His cheeks ache and he's so fucking _happy_.

Louis knows he's right, he can feel the heat bombarding his cheeks and he knows his face is as red as the pair of worn-down Vans in his closet. He frowns grumpily and really, he's on the verge of begging Harry to stop teasing him already, but no, he doesn't beg. Instead, he sets the sketchbook flat on his lap (mainly to cover his erection) and studies him, how his abdomen twitches and clenches as he laughs, how his pale skin stretches taut against his chest and arm muscles, how ethereal he looks in this pastel light. And the words that have been sitting on his tongue since late last week threaten to fall out. _I love you -_

He looks out the window and narrows his eyes against the white brightness of the gray clouds. "'S gonna rain today."

"Yeah, I know, I can tell. You know, maybe you should come a bit closer to me so you can get the definitions better, or whatever," Harry says with a sly grin and Louis hates him so much, but he's not gonna win this. Not if it's not on his own terms.

So he puts on a small smile and stands, dropping his sketchbook and letting it lie on the floor. Smoothly and slowly, he walks over to his bed and straddles Harry's waist swiftly and gently before the boy even knows what's going on, and he leans down until his lips are pressed against his ear. "I jerked off to you, you know."

Harry stays silent for a while and Louis can feel the smirk grow across his face "Did you now?" he asks, hands settling on his hips and sliding down to his thighs.

Louis laughs, shoving his bare shoulder and his hand lingers there a bit longer than it should. Harry catches his hand and squeezes it, and Louis sighs. "Yeah, I did. Often, anytime I could, if I was honest. Three times a day on the weekends."

Harry groans and pulls him close again his face is buried in the crook of his neck. "Stooooop, you're getting me hard now," he whines, rubbing his semi against Louis' hip.

Louis giggles and bites the tip of his ear. "Nothing I can't fix anyway," he purrs. He reaches down and gropes him, cupping him and making him hiss. "I'd think about what you'd do to me if we were in a room alone together, just us two, with the chance to do anything. I'd think of you holding me down, you know. I like being manhandled."

Harry shivers and digs his fingers into the soft skin of his waist, closing his eyes. "Really? Is that so?"

Louis nods and hums, leaning back until they make eye contact. Harry's eyes are nearly blown out already, murky and lustful. Louis is certain that he looks the same, but really, they're both to blame here this time. He brings a hand up to cup his jaw and grins, eyes dark and daring as he leans in.

Their lips meet in a mess of saliva and tongues, the kiss is an unkempt result of both of their teasing. Louis' hands find their way into Harry's hair and tugs, gently at first because he doesn't want to hurt Harry - he wants Harry to hurt _him_. And Harry just might've read his mind because the boy is gripping his hips so hard that they start to bruise, light blue hand prints rising to the surface of his skin.

They lie there, making out like. Well. Like _teenagers_ because that's what they are until Harry's hands _finally_ slide down to his ass and squeeze it, and Louis pulls back abruptly and pats Harry's chest, lips glossy and puffy. "Well, I think that's enough action for today. You hungry? Cos I'm _starving_ ," he teases, a smirk on his face as he moves off of his beguiled boyfriend and walks down the hallway.

"Oh no, nononono, you're not going _anywhere_ , come back here right now," Harry murmurs, chasing after the smaller boy who's started to fucking _run_ down the hallway. He catches up to him rather quickly, though, because Louis' legs are stubbier and shorter and can't gather as much distance as Harry's can. He's got an arm around his midsection, pulling him up off his feet until he has him pressed up against the wall.

Louis laughs breathlessly, cheek pressed against the cool wall as his fingernails cave into the skin on Harry's forearm. "Well, Harry? You gonna do something? Sometime this year would be lovely -"

"Oh, I'll do something. Gonna make you forget your own name, how's that sound?" Harry whispers into the boy's ear, hands going down to cup and squeeze him. He grins in satisfaction when he feels him shiver. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he unbuttons Louis' skin-tight jeans, and he has to get on his knees to get them around his ankles. " _Jesus_ , Lou, what'd you do? Did you paint these on or something?"

Louis rolls his eyes, pushing his ass back into Harry's face and gasping when the boy squeezes his hips in warning. He really _does_ expect an answer. He huffs. "Well, you certainly can't be the one to talk. Don't think I could even fit my _calf_ through one of your pants' legs. I don't think I could even fit my _foot_ -"

"Alright, alright, hush up," Harry grumbles with a grin, moving his hands back to spread his fingers across his ass. "Can't believe I never really noticed you, especially with an arse like _this_. I mean, have you seen yourself, Lou? I just wanna..." He pauses and fondles his ass for a moment, just reveling in Louis' desperate sighs until he speaks up again. "Wanna eat you out. Can I eat you out, Lou? 'S good prep and -"

"Yeah, _yeah_ , God, yeah. Don't even have to ask, just - fuck," Louis falters and moans, pushing his ass back into his hands. "Just _do_ something."

Louis doesn't expect him to pull his hand back and bring back down roughly, a loud slap resounding through the hallway, and he's so fucking _lucky_ that Troy is gonna be out for the day. He stutters on a gasp, one hand gripping the edge of the wall as the other goes down to squeeze himself. _Oh God._

"Stop talking, yeah? I'm the one in charge here, I'll do something when 'm ready. And - hey -" Harry reaches around and grips his wrist, pulling his hand away from himself. "Stop touching yourself; don't do that without my permission, yeah? 'S my responsibility to make you feel good. Keep your hands on the wall."

Louis nods his head dumbly because in all honesty, there's not much else he can do anyway. He presses his forehead against the wall, waiting for anything, _something_ , but he's waiting for his tongue most importantly.

Harry stays there on his knees, squeezing his ass and admiring how the shades of red make it look better than it already had before spreading his cheeks and grinning at the way his hole twitches at the sudden exposure. "Eager 'lil thing, aren't you?" he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the center of the red mark of his palm on his cheek.

Louis clenches his jaw to refrain from saying _Fucking do something already!_ and inhales deeply, closing his eyes tight and the anticipation is _killing_ him, he just might literally die from it.

"Alright, alright, I'll spare you," Harry laughs, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to his greedy hole. He can't help but love the feeling of it twitching sporadically beneath his lips, and he laughs a little, hoping that Louis enjoys the vibrations.

Louis does, his knees buckle, but he presses the palms of his hands firmer against the wall to keep himself upright, and he really should've reminded himself beforehand that Harry is a _professional_ at teasing. (He remembers the first time Harry fingered him and found his prostate, how his finger pads brushed past it and against it, how he pressed into it insistently and then never paid it any attention. Louis came from just that, and he feels himself give a rough twitch right now at the thought of it.)

Harry kisses his hole sloppily, huffing out hot, moist breaths against him and groaning, squeezing and gripping his hips and ass. He nibbles at it then, teeth nipping at the rim and the skin above it and all around it and Louis feels so close and they've barely started and it's like Harry knows this because he's gripping his hips again. "Don't you _dare_ , Louis. Keep it together or I'll be very disappointed."

And Louis wants to keep it together, he wants to behave so badly, but he's still not allowed to touch himself and he wants to grip his base until he's allowed to come, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, pushing back into his face and earning a hard spank to his right cheek.

"You're not behaving very well, Louis. D'you want me to go home and leave you here until tomorrow, unable to touch yourself until I decide you can? That doesn't sound like much fun for you, but I've got no problem with. Is that what you want? Answer me," Harry demands, punctuating his last sentence with another harsh spank.

"I don't - don't want that, I'll behave, I'll be good, I _swear_ , Harry, please," Louis begs, tightening his hips until it becomes painful, and he's never begged before in his life like that, but then again, he's never done a _lot_ of things until Harry came along. Tears spill over his cheeks, and he feels so soft and pliant, wants Harry to take all of him but at the same time wants to take a bit of himself, wants to stop himself from falling into a faraway darkness he's never approached before. He can already feel himself slipping more and more as Harry continues to tease his hole, circling the rim with the tip of his tongue and bringing his hand back and down to spank him and watch the blood rise to the surface of his cheeks.

Harry finally pushes his tongue in, and he doesn't hold back or tease, but Louis is already oversensitive, whimpering as the boy thrusts his tongue in and out in an imitation of sex, exploring his smooth heat and moaning at the feel of him. Louis almost pushes back, hips twitching but he's got more self-restraint right now. All he wants to do is be good for Harry, loves the feeling of the possessive hand radiating heat into his skin and desperately wants it stay there. _Please_ he wants to say, but his voice has already left him, and he's barely spoken a word or uttered a noise.

Harry spanks him and fucks him with his tongue for the longest time, and he's so close, so _fucking_ close, hips tightening and thighs shaking. Harry knows the signs, though, and reaches around and fast as lightening to grip his base and squeeze. Louis cries out desperately, a loud sob of protest leaving his mouth, but Harry chastises him. "Hey now, none of that. Don't come without my permission, do you hear me? Be good for me."

Louis nods, he can't stop himself from doing so and he's vaguely certain in his murky state of mind that his balls are positively blue. He opens his eyes, knows they're crossed when he sees three of everything, and the pain he feels from being denied release isn't killing him as much as it would be if his mind was with him. He tries to speak Harry's name, tries to tell him how badly he wants to be good, but all that comes out is a breathy _Haaaa_ as Harry's thumb rubs around his rim.

He can imagine how he looks like, chin wet with saliva, his hair a sweaty, flat mess around his head and face, his biceps flexing and rolling as they retract from his ass and slap back down to it like opposite magnets attract, his eyes dark and mischievous, and Louis' legs are about to give out until Harry grabs the back of them with a sweaty hand. "'M gonna finger you, yeah? Need more prep, you're always so tight."

Louis whimpers and pushes back into nothing, his way of begging now because he's absolutely incoherent and absolutely gone. He spreads his legs more to the best of his ability, cock hard as granite and bobbing a bit between his legs. _He looks heavenly_ , Harry thinks, eyes examining his wrecked body even though they've just started. His ass cheeks are rosy red and pretty in front of his face, round and large, his back curved deliciously and sweat pooling at his back dimples, feathery hair settling around his head and he looks so lovely, Harry wishes that he could see his face.

"I won't do it for long, love, don't worry. Hey, are you with me? You hear me?" Harry says, smoothing a hand over his ass cheek with a look of concern on his face. Louis tries to say his name again, but the same noise comes out of his mouth. Louis feels like he can't breathe, feels like he isn't breathing and that his heart has stopped, and he barely feels Harry's hands grip his waist and turn him around and sit him down on the floor.

Harry knows that he's gone by the distant, cross-eyed look in Louis' eyes, the way the boy reaches out for him but doesn't really make it, and he whimpers quietly. His balls are drawn up and blue, and Harry sort of feels bad for putting him wherever he is. "Alright," he murmurs, patting his hip. "Alright, I think that's enough prep. You want me to fuck you now?" he asks, though he knows he won't get a verbal answer, hands moving to his back as he pulls him close until they're chest to chest. He lifts him up until he's on the settee near the window. The window is open, but there's a screen, so Harry figures that it's safe enough to have Louis rest his back on it. He smooths a hand over his thigh, leaning down to kiss his jaw lightly before leading himself in slowly and smoothly.

It's all Louis can feel, and it takes every fiber in his conscious being to not come right then and there. He doesn't want to come, not until Harry says he can. Harry looks so far away, but he feels so close, and his heart is about to pop through his chest and lie there on his stomach, insides twisting as Harry starts to rock slowly. But Louis doesn't want slow, oh no, not now. He wants Harry to be hard and rough, want him to go fast, wants him to fuck him so hard that he's all he can think of every time he _moves_ , wants to be completely encompassed by Harry. To the best of his abilities, he reaches behind Harry and roughly grabs his ass, pulling him closer. Normally, he wouldn't dare to do such a thing as rush him, but he isn't thinking straight right now, all he wants is for Harry to fucking _claim_ him, and he wants to make him feel good.

The tight squeeze on Harry's ass sends him into something, unleashes some wild beast he's been holding back on since he stuck his tongue in Louis' ass, and he pulls back and thrusts back in until Louis' ass is close and snug against him, and he starts to fuck him roughly, he can't hold back anymore. He digs his nails into his hips, unworldly groans and shouts leaving his mouth as he loses all self-control, and he's positive, absolutely one hundred percent positive that he's never fucked _anybody_ this hard in his life. His hips and thighs are already aching with the exertion.

Louis' body rocks wildly against the settee and screen, soft moans and whines escaping him, toes curling by Harry's hips as the boy hefts up his legs and presses his thighs against his chest, and he's so close, and Harry needs to do is -

The tip of Harry's dick is pressing into his prostate with a harshness, and he's coming _hard_ , all over the place - his come actually hits the screen itself and a scream is tearing through his lungs as his cock pulses, releasing string after thick string of come onto his stomach and chest. He lets Harry use him like a rag doll, body shaking and jerking even more rough than before he came, and as his groans and grunts gradually get louder, Louis' hands slip around the back of his knees as he hold himself up.

One rough thrust, Harry is coming with a shout, the screen breaks, and Louis is falling out of the window.

Cock still releasing a few weak ropes of come, Harry pokes his head out of the window with a gasp and watches as Louis lands in the section of purple flowers, the section where Harry had picked the bouquet of flowers he gave to Louis on their first date. _Shit_. "Shit, Lou, are you okay? You hurt?"

Louis doesn't respond for a while, and Harry is really ready to run outside in the buff to see if he's alright and alive when he hears him groan and sees him shift a bit. "Ow," he whimpers, and Harry laughs, leaning against the windowsill.

"So, let me get this straight, run over the facts completely," Zayn is saying, standing at Louis' door and peering at him with disbelieving eyes, arms crossed. He came over not even five full minutes after the alarm went off. "He - he fucked you out of the window?"

Louis nods, leaning against the door frame. He's got a light purple robe wrapped around himself, threw it on eight seconds before he opened the door. "Yes, _Officer Malik_ , he fucked me out of the window. Do you want me to give you a detailed description of the event, is that why you keep asking me?" _It's not like I could describe much anyway - I barely remember how it happened._

" _God_ , no, just - he fucked you out of a window?"

"I fucked him out of a window," Harry pipes up, popping his head up from behind Louis' shoulder and pinching his hip, smiling at the boy's soft giggle as he swats him away.

Zayn looks between the both of them, thick eyebrows narrowed, and he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose because this is the least he expected to deal with as a parole officer. "Louis, I'll have to let you off the hook because this was another accident, but next time, I won't be as lenient. I'll have to arrest you and take you to jail the next time I come down here, alright? One time is a time too many already; you're pushing it, Louis. Just stay inside and - stay away from windows when you guys have sex," he grumbles before looking Louis directly in the eye, and Louis knows the man is being one hundred percent serious. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, Louis?"

Louis swallows and nods, hand tightening on his robe. "Yes, sir. I understand, I'll stay inside this time, I think."

Zayn gives him a doubtful look before turning around and hoping into his car.

Louis watches him go and sighs, shutting the door and leaning against it, eyes closed. He knows Harry is watching him intently and carefully, doesn't need to open his eyes to know that. "He thinks that I think this is a joke, and I know it's not, 'm just being reckless," he mumbles.

Harry's arms are around his waist now, chin hooked onto his shoulder. "I know it sounds like stupid advice but - stop being reckless then. You're gonna try harder to stay inside, aren't you? I don't want you to go to jail, my parents won't let me visit you there," he chuckles. He pauses for a moment. "If you don't do it for yourself, do it for your sisters. Their mum is already gone, they can't lose you, too, you know. I can't lose you, but they're the most important."

Louis inhales a deep breath and releases it, arms wrapping around the boy's neck. He so desperately needed to hear that, really, he did. He was starting to lose sight of what was most important, his main reason to stay inside the house and stay out of trouble. His sisters already struggle with visiting their mum in the rehabilitation center, and his chest caves in at the thought of them seeing him behind bars. He doesn't want that. And he doesn't want to lose Harry either, so he'll keep it together. "I'll keep it together, Haz," he whispers against his collarbone. "I promise."

After a small discussion of what happened to him in the hallway, with Harry's vows to be more gentle and Louis' pleas for him to not do so, Harry leaves him with a hug and a kiss and snaps his paper plane necklace around his neck, ignores Louis' calls for him to get it back. Louis showers and heads off to bed, the necklace cold against his skin as he presses it into the center of his chest, mouthing _I promise_ to the warm entity wrapping around him.

***

Two weeks later, and Louis is lying on his bed, legs tangled with Harry's and a soft smile on his face as he starts to doze off. He's facing the window, watching as the rain slides down the window glass. Everything is so bright and he's so _happy_.

He's got bouquets of his own flowers sitting in one corner of his room behind his door, convenient placing in case his father happens to walk in. He's had to buy two new sketchbooks now, two of them being filled to the brim with drawings and sketches and paintings of Harry and he and Harry together and flowers and rain and everything they've worked up to. His fingers are fiddling with the paper plane necklace he's been refusing to take off, he's been hiding it under his shirt for whenever his father is around and he's sure that the chain is making a mark in the back of his neck, but he doesn't care. He's stolen two of Harry's sweaters now, and Harry doesn't do anything about it, tells him he looks rather cute in his sweaters because they're too big for him and he looks small and cuddly (Louis twisted his nipple for that, but he blushed furiously all the same) and. And he's so so _happy_ , he's never been this happy in his whole life, and Harry's arm slip around his waist and hug him close and they just _click_ together like they belong like that. They do belong like that, is the thing, and Louis wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm happy," he whispers, threading his fingers through Harry's. "I'm really happy."

***

Things start to go rogue the day after when Louis wakes up in the middle of the night to a heavy, wet body clambering through his window and landing on top of him. He almost screams, trying to rip his arm from beneath his blanket to give the stranger a good hit in the face when a wet hand comes to cover his hand and a familiar voice whispers frantically to him. "Shh, it's me, don't scream, yeah?"

Louis opens his bleary eyes to find Harry hovering above him, half of his face shadowed by his hood and the other half illuminated by the moonlight. Louis breathes out an uneven sigh, shoving at his chest weakly because honestly, what would possess his boyfriend to wake him up at - he glances at the clock on his nightstand - _three 'o clock in the morning_ like this? He huffs, eyes sipping closed again. "Yeah, alright, but what are you doing here? If you wanna fuck, you're gonna have to go back home 'nd wait till the afternoon -"

"Can't."

Louis opens his eyes again at the strained tone and sits up on his elbows. Something's very wrong, Harry wouldn't do something bizarre like this if there wasn't something wrong. "What's the matter, what's goin' on?"

Harry is silent for a moment before he sits back and crosses his legs, rubbing the tips of his fingers over his eyebrow. He sighs shakily. "They found out. They know 'm with you and that I'm bi. Dad didn't react so well," he laughs wetly, doesn't know when he started crying.

Louis sits all the way up, ignoring all the traces of sleepiness that follow him as he swipes the hood off of Harry's head and scoots closer to him, wrapping his arms around his neck. He doesn't care if the whole bed is wet right now, it's not what matters. "Did you - did you come here to stay? I could talk Troy into it, or not, you know. You could just - stay -"

"No, I - no. I couldn't sleep and you're not picking up your phone and there's no one else I can talk to this about. Gemma's at uni right now, remember? I just wanted to talk to you cos I. Louis, I don't what I'm gonna _do_. Mum started crying, talking about how terrible a mother she was for not being able to tell, and Dad - I don't even know what he was saying, he was just yelling absolute gibberish at me. I don't know if they're mad over the fact that I am what I am or if they're mad over the fact that I didn't tell them, but 'm nervous and I don't know what I should do. The only thing I could pick from Dad is that he said he knew I wasn't exactly over there to "hang out" when he saw you chasing me around the house in the buff," Harry chuckles again, but it comes out as a choked sob. He pauses, then pulls Louis into his lap completely, wrapping his arms tight around his waist. "I don't know what to do and I just want you to hold me, if that's alright."

Louis nods, chin bumping against the top of his head as he curls a hand into his hair, starts to comb it with his fingers as the other hand curls around the back of his neck and squeezes. He wishes that he could say something, give as good advice as Harry gives him when he's in trouble, but if there's one thing he can do, is get people's minds off of things. If he can't give good advice, he can distract people. "Hey, d'you - you remember last week? You remember what happened?"

"'Course I do, Lou, it was just last week," Harry laughs, presses his fingers into the skin of his waist, breaths puffing against Louis' collarbone.

Louis laughs with him, quietly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, excuse me. But you remember when I had that panic attack last week when - when Troy told me about the girls and my grandpa getting into a car crash? And he told me I couldn't go down to the hospital to see 'em cos the alarm was gonna go off, and I started freaking out and tried to run down to the hospital meself but he held me back and carried me all the way to me room, and I hid in the closet and called you, and you came right over and sat in the closet with me. Talked me through it and held me - you remember all that? Yeah, well. I wanna return the favor, I suppose. What d'you want to talk about, huh? I'll talk about anything, talk about it till the sun comes up, if that's what you need. Lemme help you," he whispers, raking his fingers against his scalp and feeling the shivers roll through the boy's body.

Harry nods against him, releasing a deep breath. "Anything. Talk about anything, but this."

Louis nods, sliding off of his lap. "Right, well, let me get these blankets off the bed so we can have a proper cuddle - don't wanna wake up with hypothermia, yeah? Hop off the bed for a minute."

Harry obeys, sitting down on a little bar stool and watching as Louis strips the bed of its sheets and duvet, and he can't exactly help the way his eyes trail down Louis' naked torso to the tight pants that hug his arse and bulge just _so_ and suddenly, he wants more than a cuddle. Before Louis can get the new bed sheet proper on the bed, Harry's gripping his waist and grinding his length into him, making him gasp. Harry leans over until his lips are pressed against his ear. "Want more than a cuddle now, Lou."

Louis remains there with one knee on the bed and Harry's cock up his ass for the remainder of the night until they both finish messily and lazily, crawling onto the unmade bed and holding each other's half-naked bodies close, and Louis feels that they've got a problem on their hands, but it's nothing they can't fix, right? It's nothing. Absolutely nothing.

***

"Troy," Louis calls from the top stair, hand gripping the edge of the wall to keep himself from falling off, "has Harry called yet? He was supposed to come over forty-five minutes ago. He's never late like this," he adds, more to himself than to Troy.

"No, your little _boyfriend_ hasn't called yet. Why're you so worried about it? He has a life outside of you, if you haven't noticed," Troy teases, voice coming closer as he walks to the bottom stair and peers up at his son. "Maybe he doesn't like you anymore."

Louis rolls his eyes and pushes himself away from the staircase, brushing off the 'boyfriend' comment in case he looks too suspicious, but he can't ignore the pang of worry in his chest. _Maybe he really doesn't like me anymore. 'S been acting distant lately and - wait a minute. Are you really listening to your father, of all people? C'mon, Tommo, you know better than that._

It's been a week or so since Harry's incident with his parents, and ever since then, the boy stopped coming over as much as he did, save for his job, and nowadays, if Louis is lucky, he'll kiss him and finger him, maybe. Louis can hardly get him to come upstairs, can hardly get him to look him in the eye. He even poked him in the chest one day, whispered _What's wrong?_ and Harry just smiled and said _Nothing_. But Louis isn't stupid, and of all people, Harry should know that.

So there he is, pacing the hallway with his phone tucked under his arm, and he keeps checking it even though he knows he's a got a message tone for when he gets one, and it's like the longer he waits, the more he tries to convince himself of things he's not even sure of. _Maybe - maybe he just got his phone taken away. Or maybe he's on a trip and can't make it to his messages right now - well, no, that doesn't make sense. He's always been able to answer me, no matter what. Maybe he just went out and forgot his phone. Maybe -_

He ends up in his father's study, doesn't know how he got there, but that's the last thing he thinks of because everything slows down and turns gray as his eyes fall upon the scene before him.

He's always been able to see Harry's house from that view, he only ever comes into Troy's study for that very reason, to watch Harry go home and wave at him through the window. He never thought he would be looking through the window to watch his boyfriend kiss his ex-girlfriend.

He almost drops his phone, but he keeps a grip tight enough to keep it in his hand as Harry lifts his hand up to her shoulder and squeezes and Louis feels so sick, he'll literally throw up, so he turns his back on them like he might be able to erase what he just saw from his mind and storms out of the study just as his father walks in. Troy narrows his eyebrows and gives him a bemused look. "Where's your night in shining armor?"

Louis just shakes his head, clenches his jaw at his words because it's like he knows what he just saw, it's like he just wants to inflict more pain on him, but he doesn't give himself time to give it more thought because he's shutting the door to his room and tossing himself onto his bed.

It rains hard that day, and the power goes out.

Louis' spent the whole day with his face buried in his pillow, tears staining the sheet covering it. He hasn't opened his eyes for hours now, hasn't even bothered to undress because his limbs feel disconnected. He just feels boneless right now, still in a state of absolute disbelief, but when his phone rings for the hundredth time that day and he opes his eyes to the darkness, answering his phone, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "Come over."

He dodges the kiss Harry tries to drop on his cheek when he opens the front door, tries to brush it off with a shoulder squeeze and a small smile, and all he wants to do is _fix_ it, even though it's not his job to fix anything, it's Harry's. It's like he's trying to mend together the pieces of a vase he didn't even break, and God knows that he's desperately trying to erase the image of that girl's hungry lips on Harry's.

He settles them down on the floor in the common room and flips on the lantern he nabbed from the little closet in the hallway. They sit there in unsettling silence like that for a good ten minutes, and Louis' fingers toy with the handle of the lantern, black spots forming in front of his eyes as he stares at the dandelion yellow light. He sits there, lips pressed together because he's trying hard not to say anything about it, about her, he's trying to pretend that he didn't see anything, but. But it's just not working. "Who was that over at your house today?" he mumbles, frown prominent.

Harry's hands freeze from fiddling with the hem of his shirt, Louis can see it out of his peripheral vision. He can hear his strangled sigh. "What all did you see?"

"Why don't you answer my fucking question first? Who was that?" Louis snaps, black spots growing larger in front of his eyes. He's still not looking up, he can't. He can't look at Harry without seeing her lips on his.

"She's just an - an old girlfriend, Eleanor. She's nobody -"

"If she was nobody, then why did you fucking kiss her?" Louis can't stop his tears from falling, doesn't even try to wipe them away because they keep falling, so it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway. "Don't try to give me that _"she came onto me"_ bullshit -!"

"She did, though! Louis, give me a second to explain -"

"Explain. _Explain?_ What is there to explain?! There's not much to explain, Harry - your ex-girlfriend comes over, you guys kiss, and you completely forget about your boyfriend next door. But you know what, I guess I do have a question after all. What would fucking possess you to _do_ that to me?" Louis yells, hands trembling around his grip on the handle. His eyes are burning and he knows he should stop staring at the light now, but it's looking like the best option for him right now because he doesn't want to look at Harry, not yet.

"I didn't want to do that to you, my _God_ , Louis! I didn't forget about you - hell, I was thinking of you the whole time -"

"Oh, that's just _great_ -"

"No - really, just _listen_ for a second. I - we haven't spoken to each other in _two years_ , Louis, I'd have no reason to want her now. She just - she just _appeared_ out of nowhere, said my dad invited her over, and you can guess why, I suppose. But Louis, she was on me, just like that, I didn't have time to think about it because she was so busy sucking my face off. I didn't want her, Lou, I didn't want her at _all_ , please, you've. You've got know that. You know that, don't you? You're the only person I'll ever want. You've gotta believe me," Harry pleas and he knows he's fucked up, and it's not even his fault and it's not _fair_ , he loves Louis so much, he -

"I can't - I just don't want to. I can't look at you right now, I just keep seeing her lips on yours, I keep seeing you put your hand on her shoulder, so just. Just go? Leave. Give me - give me some time," Louis says just above a whisper, he can hardly hear himself, but he supposes that Harry heard because he can see the nod out of his peripheral vision, can see him stand, can see the low slump in his shoulders as he trudges away, and he can see him look back at him before disappearing behind into the foyer.

He can feel the door shut. And he thinks he can hear his heart break, but that might just be the tick of the minute hand on the clock, waning time away like it's slipping through his hands. Everything is slipping through his hands.

***

It's only been a few days, but Louis' heart is a mess. Harry still comes by, Louis knows because he goes downstairs every day to watch him garden, can see as he stops sometimes and stares a purple flower like he's thinking about him. And Louis can hardly stand it, his eyes start tearing up every time he does it, so he leaves and goes upstairs and buries himself in his blankets like he's been doing every day now.

He gets voice mail from him sometimes, each one documenting how his day went and how he thinks about him all the time, and that there's not a moment he doesn't think about him and about how wrong he's been. Harry thinks they're gonna be like this for a long while, Louis realizes after he listens to his fifth voice message.

And Louis keeps telling himself _oh, this is ridiculous, it was just a kiss; it's not like he fucked her_ , but somehow, it's just as bad. Kissing is a level of intimacy just like any other, just like having sex and holding hands and holding _each other_. And there's a boundary when you're with someone, there's a _thick_ boundary that you just can't cross, not with anyone else. Which is why he's here now, lying on the couch, watching the static buzz and thrive on the telly.

And it's raining. It's always raining, isn't it?

His eyes drag across the television screen, watching the frenzy of static as his chest aches at how much he _misses_ Harry, how badly he just wants to be held by him again, how he just wants to touch and kiss him again, how he wants to be groped and fucked by him again. He just _wants_ him so much and. And he can't do it anymore. He's zipping up a jacket and standing at the front door, he's a man possessed now. Possessed by love would be a cheesy thing to say, but it's what's true.

His ankle bracelet is beeping the moment he steps down from the bottom step of the porch, but his feet keep leading him to where he wants to go. The rain is coming down on him, assaulting him with its heavy raindrops and soaking him, and all he can hear is the bracelet's alarm going off.

He knows he looks terrible, and he hasn't looked himself in the mirror for a week and a half. There are bags sagging under his eyes, low and dark, and there's a frown pasted on his face and it hasn't left him for so long, he thinks it just might be permanent. His hair is tangled and uncombed, sticking to his forehead and neck and it itches, but he's too numb to care for fixing it. His eyes look as dull and lifeless as the day the judge told him that he was on house arrest, or like the day he was driven to Troy's house and saw the man standing on the porch with a sick smirk fixed on his face.

He's standing on Harry's porch and knocking on the door gently before he knows, he doesn't really know how he got there so fast, but he's there now and the door swings open and he wants to run, he wants to turn around and run and hide in his closet and the feelings rush over him so quickly, it's like when he had a panic attack all over again -

"I hate you," he says, it's the first thing that comes out of his mouth as Harry looks at him with red eyes and a face twisted in so much fucking _sadness_. "I hate you so fucking much, do you know that? Of course you do. Why you would let something like that happen after everything we'd been through is still fucking _beyond_ me, but - but I. It's not doing neither one of us any good, now is it? I haven't - I haven't slept in days, I think. And I _miss_ you, Harry, so much, I can't stand it. And you don't deserve it, you don't deserve to be missed, I shouldn't even be here on the verge of getting arrested because of you because you're a fucking _idiot_ and I wish I could hate you enough to never talk to you again, but it's _hell_ being without you and I don't know if I'll ever forgive you for kissing her, but I don't want us to be apart for a moment longer and I just want you and I hope you just want me and -" The beeping that was ringing in his ear stops, and the bracelet is dead. "And I _love_ you and I'm not letting you leave us behind."

Harry stands there in the doorway, eyes wide and gawking at him and - and he's grabbing him by the front, pulling him in for a messy kiss that they fix somehow along the way. Louis wraps his arms around his shoulders, and he briefly worries about getting him wet but considers it payback for when the boy climbed through his window and cried on his shoulder.

And Louis knows that it looks like he couldn't help himself when Zayn is riding up in front of Harry's house. He almost laughs at himself when Zayn is sighing and putting his arms around his back, cuffing him because honestly, all he had to do was call the boy over and they would've been fucking by now, but he's far too romantic for that, isn't he?

But Harry sort of runs after him and kisses him one more time, and Louis figures that it's alright. He'll be alright. And when Harry grants him a gracious, bright smile, he knows they'll both be alright from now on.

***

"Harry, what is the big _deal_ -"

Harry is tugging at his hips as he places his clothes back into their respective places. He's been in jail for the remainder of his house arrest, so it's only been two weeks, but Harry sent him letter every day like he was at war (which he practically was, the people there were _savages_ and he had to hide his own clothes, even though he told Troy not to send any over). But the moment he got home, Harry was shoving him upstairs and forcing him to set his bags down, glee written all over his face. "'S a surprise, Lou; I can't tell you!"

And even though he peers at him with an annoyed look on his face, he doesn't care what Harry's got planned as long as he keeps that elated expression written across his features. He straightens up and leaves his luggage unattended, tossing his arms around his neck with a lazy grin. "Well, slow down a bit, I've barely gotten a good look at you since I got here, yeah? You look stunning."

He does, is the thing. He's dressed like he usually is, wearing a tattered white flannel and a pair of skin-tight jeans, wearing the crucifix he used to wear on top of the paper plane necklace before he gave it to Louis (Louis wore it every single day after he got arrested, and he knew that if he was going to die, he'd die with a piece of Harry with him). His hair has grown a big longer, a bit wilder than from before, and it almost stuns Louis to the point of speechlessness because he can't believe how much someone can change in just two weeks' time, but. But his eyes are luminous and emerald green and Louis could almost see himself lying in them, on his back brushing through the green color like it's grass or something. And when he untangles his arms from around his neck and snakes them around his waist, he can see the tan lines starting at his hips. He can't help it, he smiles widely out of fondness for this dumb boy with the dark curls. He leans up and bumps his nose against his, doesn't know how he got so carried away, but there's no other way he'd have it. "I missed you, y'know," he whispers.

Harry smiles, brushes his fringe out of his face as his eyes cross in the cutest way possible. "Bet I missed you more."

Louis giggles a bit as they brush noses. "Now am I gonna get a kiss now or do I have to wait till after your little surprise?"

Harry rolls his eyes before dipping down and slotting their lips together, and it's like the first time they kissed in Louis' kitchen, his hands finding their place on his lower back and pulling them closer together, like waves creeping closer to the shore. He pulls back before they can get too carried away, patting Louis' bum. "C'mon, before your surprise goes away, we gotta head downstairs to the backyard, yeah?"

Louis nods and pulls back reluctantly, grabbing his hand with a grin. He loves Harry so much. "I love you so much," he mumbles with a blush and a squeeze of his hand. Even after all this time, he feels like a fool when he says it, but he means it every time.

Harry squeezes his hand in response. "I love you too, more than anything," he mutters before he leads him downstairs, and Louis almost stops him until he realizes that he'd been released of the ankle bracelet that morning, letting himself be pulled into the backyard.

He's bombarded by gray clouds and the chorused shouts of _Surprise! Welcome home, Louis!_ He jumps a bit, he's never dealt that well with surprises, but he lets this one slide with a light-hearted laugh, his hand covering his mouth as he giggles.

It's not even a lot of people, it's just his remaining family, but he's overjoyed all the same. The set up is lovely, the benches covered with white sheets and plates set out for all of them. There are purple and white balloons accompanying the benches, and Louis almost looks around for the table full of presents, but Harry hasn't gone that far. There are vases of the purple flowers set right in the center of each bench and bowls of fruit beside them and -

He whirls around and jumps into Harry's arms, hugging him tight because he knows that's all that he's able to do at the moment. "Thank you so much, Harry! I -!" He pulls back and looks into his eyes, cutting himself off. "I...um..."

Harry shakes his head, his smile never leaves his face. "'S okay, though, you can say it! Your dad outed you before I could get the plans straight. Was gonna tell them that we were just close friends, but your dad had other ideas. Didn't even know he knew, but -"

Louis interrupts him with a curt kiss and several more kisses to his face, doesn't stop showering him with kisses until the boy is giggling and squeezing his tummy. Louis is forced to step back, but not without placing one more kiss to his lips. "I love you." He turns around, looking his family members in the eye and poking his chest, and this is _so_ fucking cliche, but as if he could care. "I love him, you know."

And they spend a few more hours outside, sitting and eating and chatting with the family, getting mocked and made fun and Lottie tells them that she always knew ( _"I was just trying to push your buttons and see how far I could go, to be quite honest."_ ) ( _Louis glares at her._ ) and they dance a bit (Harry is quite the sap, Louis has to admit. He could give him a run for his money) and when the rain comes pouring down on them, they find that they don't mind. The rest of them runs inside, covering their heads, but Louis has Harry to keep him warm, doesn't he? He buries his head into his neck like in his dream from ages ago. "You've got me, right?" he murmurs, the words leaving him like he's asking for a promise to be made.

And somehow the words can be heard over the rain, because Harry is murmuring right back to him. "Always."

And. And that's a promise that'll never be broken.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading all the way through!!!!
> 
> feedback and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> find me on tumblr [@louisinaheadband](http://www.louisinaheadband.tumblr.com/)


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